Murphy's Law
by MirandaMinerva
Summary: St. Patrick's Day ficlet; Miranda/Andrea/Caroline/Cassidy; Set after the film, but before Miranda/Andrea develop a relationship


Summary: St. Patrick's Day, approx 6 months after the end of the film  
A/N: Told largely from Miranda's perspective. The small section from Andrea's POV is set off and in italics to make identification a bit easier to follow.  
A/N: Despite what I've been doing to Miranda lately, in actual fact, I do like her. Really.

* * *

"Mom, c'mon. You said you would go with us." Caroline called out as she slid a weathered red windbreaker on over her pale green sweater. Cassidy was snapping Patricia's harness into place. This was proving to be difficult, as Patricia had realized she was going for a long walk, and was moving around, excitedly.

"Caroline, you don't need to shout. I can hear you just fine," came the low, soft admonishment from another room.

Carrie helped her sister hold Patricia in place long enough for Cassidy to straighten out the straps. The twins glanced at each other for a long moment, and then Cassidy sighed, obviously losing the unspoken debate.

The young girl plodded reluctantly down the hall and into the kitchen at the back of the house. She approached her mother, who stood facing the stainless steel refrigerator, sipping from a glass of water.

Cassidy patted her mother's hip, "Mom, you can wear a hat, if you really want." Her voice was soft, sad. When Miranda looked down into the doleful blue eyes, her heart broke.

Really, it wouldn't hurt, just this once, to go along, would it? Surely any paparazzi they might come across would understand the occasionally ridiculous requests children placed on their parents.

With a last glance at the slightly distorted image of herself in the fridge door, Miranda turned to place her glass on the nearby countertop.

"Did you already get Patricia's travel water bowl?"

Cassidy's freckled face lit up, "Carrie has it. Could you get down the new container of treats, Mom? They're too high for me to reach."

Miranda followed her daughter into the pantry, pulling down a large plastic tub full of dried tan strips. She watched on as Cassidy twisted off the top and pulled out a couple of the treats as the small space quickly filled with the smell of chicken.

The two of them walked back to the front of the townhouse, Miranda trying not to play with her hair. It wouldn't improve the situation, anyway.

"Did you get the…" Caroline started to query her sister, but stopped when Patricia began nuzzling Cassidy's bright pink jacket pocket. The action seemed to have answered her question.

"Not yet." Cassidy told the dog, firmly, but kindly pushing the animal away. Miranda shuffled around the large canine and her daughters to the coat closet, finding a long, lightweight coat and slipping it over her shoulders. As she was about to close the closet door, her eyes landed on the small shelf of scarf boxes, and she reflexively slid out a fresh white Hermes and tucked it into the coat pocket. Perhaps, she mused, she could put it on for the walk back home.

As they stepped outside, and Miranda shut the door, Patricia and Caroline bounded down the street, followed closely at first by Cassidy. Miranda lagged behind. The sun was setting, and the Editor dipped a hand into her suit jacket pocket before she buttoned up the outer coat, sliding her sunglasses into place.

She had agreed to going for a walk with the girls and Patricia without a head cover, but she didn't have to allow strangers to see her eyes or her facial expression, now did she?

Just before they reached the northern entrance to the park, Cassidy dropped back, taking her mother's hand as their feet turned off the sidewalk and onto the rough concrete path.

"See, there's hardly anybody here. That's why we wanted to come. They don't know Spring is early."

Miranda couldn't help the warm smile that spread over her face, letting go of her daughter's small hand to pat her head.

"You're right, Bobsey."

Cassidy wrapped an arm around her mother's hips, then just as quickly let go and went running off after Patricia and Caroline. Miranda settled down onto the one bench that wasn't covered by pigeon droppings or leaf material.

She watched on as the girls let Patricia off her leash and the three chased each other around the large, open, grassy space for a few minutes before Caroline came and dropped the collapsible water bowl and the leash by her mother's feet. Cassidy pulled a tennis ball from one of her pockets, and the twins had Patricia chasing after it for quite awhile. Eventually, Patricia tired out, not giving up the ball and carrying it over to the bench, where she settled down with it still clenched in her jaws.

"Mom, we're just going to go look at the clover. We'll be right back." Caroline stated, from a distance.

"We saw them last week, but it was too cold to really look." Cassidy continued.

"When were you here last week?" Miranda kept her voice even, despite her concern.

"On our way back from Amelia's last Sunday afternoon." Caroline placed a hand on her hip; her voice was filled with irritation, serving as a silent reminder to their mother that her girls were getting dangerously close to puberty.

"Fine. But only for a few minutes. It's starting to get dark." The twins practically flew across the field and over a small rise. In that moment, Miranda realized that the whole purpose of this trip to the park was about hunting for a four-leaf clover.

All things considered, she would much rather them stay in this phase as long as possible. The mere thought of the hormonal roller-coaster ride that was just around the corner caused her chest to constrict, painfully. She took a deep breath, enjoying the cool, calm air that hovered over the patch of peaceful greenery in the middle of the chaos that was life in New York.

After several minutes, Miranda glanced down to where Patricia was gnawing, gently, on the tennis ball. There was a water fountain a few yards off, so Miranda, grudgingly, took the water bowl and walked towards it. She had known from the outset, three years ago, that although her daughters indicated they would take complete care of the dog, she would inevitably end up dealing with a good portion of the care and maintenance of the large animal. She hadn't had pets growing up, and knew that it would be good for her daughters to have some of the accoutrements of a proper childhood, despite the sacrifices she would have to make.

"Hey, mom. We found one! We found a four-leaf clover!" Caroline shouted as she ran, almost headlong, into her mother. Cassidy was at her heels, stopping a few feet sooner, placing her hands on her knees, out of breath.

"Do you have your inhaler?" Miranda's voice cracked as she dropped the dog bowl and moved towards the child.

Cassidy nodded, strands of her shoulder-length flaming red hair dancing around her face. She took a few more ragged breaths before pulling out an inhaler and taking a couple of puffs. Miranda gently rubbed the girl's back, soothing the tight muscles, hoping it would ease her breathing.

Caroline, meanwhile, filled the dog bowl with a puddle of water and set it in front of Patricia. The dog sniffed at it through a shaggy coat that draped over her muzzle, but didn't drink.

"I'm fine, Mom." Cassidy finally stated, calmly.

"Okay." She stepped away.

"See, we found it." Caroline reached up and tucked the green sprout into a buttonhole of her mother's coat, grinning.

"Thank you, Bobsey." Miranda bent and gave her a peck on the forehead.

"We didn't really find it, though." Cassidy clarified, shooting a sharp look at Caroline.

"Oh, really?" Miranda could feel her eyes going a little cross as she tried to look down at the bit of quickly wilting clover hovering just under her chin.

"Hi, Miranda. Um, Happy Saint Patrick's Day."

The Editor-in-Chief of _Runway_ magazine brought her head up with a snap, eyes crossed, a bit of limp plant stuck in her coat, and a streak of green running through her snowy white hair, from just over the left temple to behind her left ear.

Of course. It would have to be Andrea. It really couldn't get any worse than that.

When the twins had insisted on putting the stripe of temporary color in her hair before dinner, she went along, knowing she had no social plans for the evening and could wash it out before bed time.

And when her daughters begged to take Patricia to the park, since the weather was the best it had been in months, she was willing to appease her girls. She wasn't amused by their requirement that she not cover up the wonderful handiwork they had done with her hair, but she relented. Against her better judgment.

They were her daughters, after all. She would do anything for them. She tried, desperately, not to let them take too much advantage of that fact, knowing it was a futile battle.

'What was the worst that could happen?' She had asked herself. Maybe a photographer or two whom hadn't already captured her on film that morning when she had gotten the papers finalizing her divorce. But, she rationalized, she would be with her daughters, at the park, on St. Patrick's Day. Surely, it would be understood. And, besides, no one would see the look of supreme annoyance on her face, thanks to the large, dark sunglasses. And, if things got out of hand, she had the scarf tucked in her pocket, just in case.

She hadn't realized that there was something much worse than encountering the media out here. There was Andrea, in the flesh. The one person who would take in the crossed eyes (if she could see them through the sunglasses—but then again, this was Andrea – she saw _every_thing), the green stripe of hair, and the drooping clover and pretend it was all perfectly natural. Andrea was the one person who could look at her at her most asinine and not seem to give a damn. She knew this to be true after getting caught looking her most ragged one evening in Paris.

It was moments like these that reminded her of the importance of planning and the value in controlling for these confounding variables of life. Surely, Murphy's Law could be prevented.

Miranda sighed, glanced at her daughters then back at Andrea. Her mind continued to churn.

The clover's reputation as a bearer of good fortune was obviously fictional. She made mental note of this in the event someone brought up the idea of clovers, or even shamrocks for next March's edition of _Runway_.

Caroline gave Cassidy a puzzled look, surprised that their mother had been standing there so silently. Cassidy turned her gaze to Andy, who met her eyes with an equal measure of unease.

"Well, I um, thought I should at least say 'hello' after bumping into the girls. I was, um, well, I was just passing through. Party to go to. You know, green beer, Gaelic music, lots of Guinness." Andy rambled, falsely cheerful, as she fidgeted with her hands.

--  
_Of course she would bump into Miranda. She had put on the green glitter-covered top hat as she left the office to meet up with Lily and a few other friends after work. She felt a twinge of self-consciousness on the subway, but shook it off. When she had gotten off, and made her way above ground, she had gotten terribly turned around using Google maps, and had eventually caught a cab to the address she had noted for the party. Only the traditional Irish pub they were planning to meet at was packed, and she couldn't find any of her friends in the crowd. Eventually, she had sent Lily a text, only to find that the group had relocated to a less raucous location, some distance away. So, Andy had pulled up Google maps again, not learning from the error of relying on it the previous trip, and was now ambling through a half-empty park as the sky got progressively dark._

_ Of course it could get worse. Because, here she was, standing in front of Miranda Priestly. Actually, Miranda Priestly with her twins, which meant Andy would be seen as intruding. Great. No matter what she did, Murphy's Law had a way of finding her and wreaking havoc.  
--_

"Andrea," Miranda gave the smallest nod of acknowledgement. It was the best she could do under the circumstances. Normally, a million and one witty and sarcastic one-liners would fight to be the first to roll off her tongue. But, not tonight, when faced with the young, chestnut-haired, doe-eyed woman with a silly green hat sitting jauntily atop her head.

"Oh. Mom. She's the one who helped us find the four-leaf clover."

"Well, only kind of," Andy interjected, even as she looked for a way to escape.

"No. You found it, and led Caroline right to it." Cassidy crossed her arms across her chest, looking especially irritable that Andy was unwilling to accept her role in the discovery.

"Nuh-uh. I found it by myself." Caroline's red cheeks contradicted her words.

"Well, like I said. I've got to get going. It was nice to see you again," Andy gave Caroline the briefest of glances, but allowed her gaze to fall, with a smile, on Cassidy.

And with that, she was off. The three Priestly women stood there, watching her back as the reporter weaved a little along the pathway, headed South, as she reviewed the directions provided on her smart phone's screen.

After a moment, Patricia eased her body up off the ground and ambled over, pushing her cold nose against Caroline's hand before sitting down to watch a silhouette fade in the twilight.

~That's All~

(There will be a follow-up ficlet to this.)


End file.
